


Interagency Co-operation

by LadyKes



Series: Interagency Cooperation [2]
Category: Lewis (TV), NCIS
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-21
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:09:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,107
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1215550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyKes/pseuds/LadyKes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Intuition will tell the thinking mind where to look next.</i>  James and Robbie visit NCIS.  No spoilers for Lewis or NCIS.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Interagency Co-operation

Three bodies. Three mysteries. They’d all been found exactly a week apart from each other almost to the hour, in almost exactly the same environment, and in exactly the same state: No identification, no obvious signs of trauma, no obvious clues. The fingerprints hadn’t matched anything in their standard databases, there were no similar missing persons reports, and generally it was as if they’d all fallen from the sky and landed in fields around Oxford. It was baffling to all parties. Lewis was getting ever more tetchy with each successive body and the Chief Super was well beyond tetchy.

Following a hunch he couldn’t explain but somehow trusted ( _Intuition will tell the thinking mind where to look next_ ), James called and requested that the forensics lab make the fingerprint data available to outside agencies, then pulled out a business card and dialed an international number.

\---

“Washington? Why do you need to go to America?” Innocent demanded in the tone that meant she’d been looking at the budget reports again. 

“There seems to be a connection with our case, ma’am,” Lewis said easily. It had taken James considerable time with the whiteboard to explain the situation, but once he had been convinced Lewis was entirely willing to fight the Chief Super on his sergeant’s behalf.

“Three bodies of US Sailors or Marines here, three bodies of Royal Navy or Royal Marines there,” James supplied succinctly, since it had been his hunch. “Nearly identical forensics and _modus operandi_.”

That was a fairly good reason to believe that the cases were related and Innocent’s face showed it, but it didn’t answer the larger question she was asking.

“Why aren’t the MDP handling this? This is their jurisdiction,” she pointed out.

“Yes, ma’am, it is, and we’ve spoken to them. As Hathaway’s already begun to liaise with the NCIS, they’ve decided to leave it in our jurisdiction. I believe you’ll be receiving a call from them shortly,” Lewis said in the logical-copper voice he’d perfected, and Innocent glanced at her phone as it began ringing. She gave them both a speaking look as she picked it up, then had a short conversation with someone called “Chummy”. They would have attempted to escape during the call and even glanced at each other in silent agreement to do so, but were firmly pinned in place with a look before they could. When Innocent put the phone down, they’d all concluded what the answer would be, but she said it anyway. James had noticed she often did that when she needed to feel like events were happening with her approval. 

“Pack a bag. You leave tomorrow.”

\---

After a flight that seemed far longer than it was, mostly because he was squashed into a middle seat that was clearly not designed for anyone taller than a postbox, they were met by a young woman. She had a sign that read Lewis, and he glanced over to share a tired, reminiscent smile with his governor. The moment they stepped out of the elevator at NCIS, Abby bounded up to them both and enveloped James in a hug, which made him stiffen for a moment. He wasn’t hugged all that often, and he certainly hadn’t expected to be hugged by a woman he’d met exactly once while she was a person of interest in a murder inquiry. But he had the sense that this was completely normal behavior for her, and it did feel nice to be hugged by someone who clearly did it just because she felt like it. Lewis raised his eyebrows at Abby’s unconventional greeting, though, and James had a feeling he’d be fending off at least one question about this, more if Dr. Hobson heard anything. Spending so much time with the dead had made Dr. Hobson very nosy about the living.

“Gibbs, this is Detective Inspector Lewis and Detective Sergeant Hathaway,” she introduced them to an older man, who seemed unsurprised that Abby had just hugged a visitor and then slipped her arm into his as she brought him over to her team. “I met Sergeant Hathaway when I was in Oxford last year and then I heard from him again since their series of bodies might have some connection to our series of bodies.”

“Inspector Lewis, Sergeant Hathaway, this is Special Agent Gibbs, Special Agent DiNozzo, Special Agent David, and Special Agent McGee. You can just call them Agent whatever or by their last names,” she completed the introductions, gesturing to the appropriate people as she did. 

“Pleased to meet you all,” Lewis said easily, and Abby’s colleagues replied in similar fashion, though James did notice that Agent McGee didn’t seem all that pleased with Abby’s continued attachment to his arm. “Is there somewhere we can discuss the investigation?” 

“Conference room’s this way,” Agent Gibbs said shortly. “Abs, go get Ducky.”

Abby saluted smartly and disappeared, short skirt flouncing in time with her pigtails. He could only imagine the Chief Super’s reaction to that particular sartorial choice, but it suited Abby. 

\--

They were all in a hideously painted conference room sipping hideously prepared tea when an older man entered.

“I do apologize for my tardiness,” the man said in a familiar accent, holding out his hand to Lewis and then to James. “Mr. Palmer and I were in the middle of an autopsy. Dr. Donald Mallard, at your service.”

Lewis had risen to shake the other man’s hand, as had James. “DI Lewis and this is my partner, DS Hathaway. Oxford Police.”

“Oxford! Oh, I do so miss the dreaming spires,” Dr. Mallard replied warmly, rolling the ‘r’ in dreaming. 

“Are you a graduate, Doctor?” Lewis asked, and James suspected only he would have noticed the slightly resigned undertone. 

“No, no, merely a tourist. I did one year at Cambridge, but ultimately it was the University of Edinburgh for me,” Dr. Mallard explained, and Lewis nodded.

“What can you tell me about these sailors?” Lewis asked briskly, gesturing to the table, and they all sat down before their hosts launched into an extensive explanation.

\---

He couldn’t sleep. He very much wanted to, but his body wasn’t sure what day or hour or century it was. He was contemplating late night American telly, but that was likely to be less than soothing, and he couldn’t concentrate on a book. _How strange at night to wake and watch while others sleep_. Perhaps a drink would help, and he was considering where to get that when his mobile rang.

“Hathaway,” he said automatically without looking at the display.

“Can’t sleep?” Abby’s amused, far too cheerful voice said. “Meet me in the lobby. I’ll take you somewhere and you can depress your central nervous system.”

It took a moment to realize that she was inviting him for a drink, and he immediately began to politely decline.

“Oh, come on. You probably have killer jet lag and you have to brief the director tomorrow. You do not want to do that on no sleep, believe me,” she wheedled, and he found himself agreeing. Her argument was unconventional, but she had a point.

She bounced up from a chair when he arrived in the lobby and he noticed with relief that they’d both chosen casual attire.

“Jeans and a t-shirt suit you,” she noted. “Not that your suits aren’t great. DiNozzo wants the number for your tailor no matter how much the shipping is, but casual suits you.”

He wasn’t sure how to respond to her compliment, but it didn’t matter because she was still talking as they walked outside.

“You know you don’t have to do this, right?” she said anxiously, glancing up at him. “I mean, I know I can be persuasive, but consent is important. Especially since you’re our guest. Professional guest, but still a guest.”

“I’m aware,” he agreed, and left it at that while he held up his packet of cigarettes. Abby wrinkled her nose, though, so he put them back in his pocket. “How did you happen to be in this area at this time of night?”

“I’m staying at a convent nearby. The sisters are used to me leaving at weird times,” she explained, slipping her hand into his arm again as they walked. It seemed to be something she enjoyed doing, and it didn’t particularly bother him, so he allowed it. He did think he smelled gunpowder, but that must be an olfactory hallucination to go along with the auditory hallucination. Did she just say she was staying at a convent?

“A convent?” he repeated, perhaps a bit stupidly, because Abby was possibly the least likely potential nun he’d ever met in his life, and he’d met quite a few novices. “Why?”

“Tonight was bowling practice. Sometimes I stay over,” she replied, guiding him to a little pub just down the street that wasn’t overfull, overdark, nor overloud. 

“You bowl with nuns?” he asked, choosing a small table that allowed good views of the entire pub and all the exits. Abby’s knowing smile indicated that she not only knew what he’d done, she approved. 

“Oh, yeah, they are fabulous too. We win the league on a regular basis,” she beamed. “A couple of the other teams think we have a divine advantage, but I really don’t think so. Prayer is no substitute for actually practicing, although it can’t hurt so we make sure to do both.”

“Are you Catholic?” he asked next, although it was almost a foregone conclusion. It wasn’t likely that she’d cheerfully bowl with nuns and stay at a convent if she wasn’t.

“Completely. I was raised in New Orleans, which was obviously founded by the French, and my family is also Italian, so there was no way I’d be anything else culturally, although faith is a very personal choice at the same time. I considered looking into a vocation once, but I just don’t have the right personality for it,” Abby admitted with the kind of easy self-assurance he sometimes wished he had.

“I think you’dve been a very interesting nun,” he said honestly. “You could have given the Church a whole new perspective. I’d like to have seen that.”

She laughed delightedly, then opened the drinks menu with a wink. “I knew you were a smart man, Sergeant Hathaway.”

\---

The case was solved, the murderers found, and the politicians satisfied. He didn’t much care about the last, but he very much cared about the first two. The NCIS team was extremely good at what they did and he knew that Innocent would have been pleased to have any or all of them in Oxford had they shown even the slightest inclination to emigrate. 

“So it’s a deal?” Abby said, looking squarely at him thanks to her immensely tall boots. “You’ll send me copies of everything your band puts out? And in return I send you Sister Rosita’s snickerdoodles?”

“Agreed,” he said, smiling slightly, and she hugged him again. In the past four days he’d gotten more hugs than he’d gotten in the past four months and possibly the past four years. Abby would have hugged him anyway, but the frequency had increased after he’d told her a bit about his life that night at the bar. He still wasn’t quite sure why he’d done it except that she had the kind of personality that invited confidences and they’d been talking about faith anyway. The alcohol might have been a factor as well. She’d listened without judgment to everything he’d been willing to say, then she’d wrapped him in the kind of warm, caring embrace that was remarkably lacking in his life.

“Now, don’t be a stranger, Sergeant,” she admonished him, infusing his title with a measure of affection that made it less a mere descriptor and more a nickname, almost as it did when Lewis said it. “And take care of yourself. Remember what St. Thomas Aquinas said.”

“Sorrow can be alleviated by good sleep, a bath, and a glass of wine?” he suggested seriously.

“Exactly. So take Saint Tommy’s advice. And not so Saint Abby’s,” she added, then turned to shake Lewis’s hand firmly. “That goes for you too, Inspector.”

“I’ll do me best, Abby,” Lewis said indulgently. In some ways, he treated Abby as if she was his very odd child, but it was clear he respected her personally and professionally as well. 

As they turned and walked towards the security checkpoint after one final hug and handshake, plus a quick kiss on Hathaway’s cheek, Lewis glanced over and up at his slightly pink cheeks. “Successful visit, would you say, Sergeant?”

“Certainly, sir,” he agreed blandly. “Interagency cooperation has been firmly established.”

**Author's Note:**

> James quotes Jonas Salk and Coventry Patmore. Abby quotes Thomas Aquinas.


End file.
